


Drarry and The Philosopher's Stone

by orphan_account



Series: Drarry and The Years Of Hogwarts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Fluff, Harry has PTSD poor baby, MY BOIS ARE PRECIOUS SO THEY ARE GONNA CUDDLE OKEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK, Mental Illness, NO SMUT BECAUSE THEY ARE ELEVEN, PTSD, Young Love, descriptions of past child abuse, first year, graphic memories of child abuse, just fluff, no kissing or sex, young relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Malfoy walks up to him after potions on a Thursday afternoon and he can’t help but let out a small sigh because it’s already been a long enough day and what does Malfoy want now?Malfoy’s mouth opens, the previous smirk it held melting away so that the words can be said.“You look ill, Potter.”The words aren’t exactly what Harry is expecting, although he does not fully know what he was expecting. He doesn’t even know what he was hoping Malfoy would say, but he does know that these words have caught him off guard.“I’m fine.”These two words have been said by Harry so often over the past eleven years that it seems as though he is a broken record, though he does not have any other words to say. His own feelings and thoughts are so deep that he does not even understand them himself. He cannot just explain them to someone else, it’s never that easy, so he repeats the same two words every day.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be the first book in a seven book long series (I may include an epilogue either inside the series or outside of it after the seven main books are finished, I'm not sure.)  
> Just in case you didn't check the tags, this is going to be a fic set in their first year. Therefore, Harry and Draco will be in a cute little middle school type of relationship that consists of cuddling, cute little 'I really like you's, and holding hands. There will be no kissing, no smut, no suggestive content, nothing of that sort because they are 11 and that would be extremely inappropriate. I can, however, promise that their relationship will become more sexual and suggestive as the series continues and they get older, you'll just have to wait a while if you're looking forward to any smut.   
> If you are searching for something that includes an adult relationship then I recommend my other fic, Fender Bender (wink wink). Without further ado, I hope that you enjoy the fic!

Malfoy walks up to him after potions on a Thursday afternoon and he can’t help but let out a small sigh because it’s already been a long enough day and what does  _ Malfoy  _ want now?

Malfoy’s mouth opens, the previous smirk it held melting away so that the words can be said.

“You look ill, Potter.”

The words aren’t exactly what Harry is expecting, although he does not fully know what he was expecting. He doesn’t even know what he was hoping Malfoy would say, but he does know that these words have caught him off guard.

“I’m fine.”

These two words have been said by Harry so often over the past eleven years that it seems as though he is a broken record, though he does not have any other words to say. His own feelings and thoughts are so deep that he does not even understand them himself. He cannot just explain them to someone else, it’s never that easy, so he repeats the same two words every day. 

“You don’t seem fine. Need the nurse?” 

It’s not a genuine question. Instead, it is a mockery. A pry into Harry’s true headspace.

“Maybe I’ll stop by later. Thanks for that genuine concern of yours, Malfoy,” Harry remarks, the bite of his words releasing venom into the pit of the blond’s stomach. Malfoy wonders briefly when Potter grew his fangs, as he has not seen them come into light during the small window of time that they have known each other. Usually, Harry would not even reply. He would shrug or look away, occasionally caving and shooting back an insult or two. The truth is that the intrusive thoughts have been getting to Harry today. He is more touchy than usual and it is hard for him to hold his tongue. This day has been  _ long enough. _ Flashbacks have not left him alone since this morning. Memories of the beatings and insults and the slamming doors and that damn  _ cupboard _ have not stopped passing by his eyes this entire day and so, of course, Harry looks ill because he feels ill. Malfoy’s shoulder brushes against his as Malfoy stalks down the corridor. Malfoy’s trademark smirk is on his lips once again, and his hair is sleeked back, perfectly in place, as always.

Harry lets go of another sigh, this one of relief. He has a break from classes for about an hour before dinner in the Great Hall so he makes his way up to the Gryffindor common room. His thoughts still have not stopped racing. His heart is pounding and the task of taking a breath is steadily becoming harder than it was just five minutes ago. He can feel this panic attack beginning to devour him and comes to terms with the fact that he cannot do anything to stop it. He’s had these panic attacks for years, but he still finds them difficult to manage. 

“Venomous Tentacula.” 

The portrait hole swings open and Harry crawls through, immediately making his way over to his favorite red armchair (the one closest to the fireplace, which he finds comfortable and soothing).

Harry settles into the armchair, curling up into a fetal position and resting his head lazily against the armrest as he drapes his feet over the opposite one. He hugs his knees slightly closer to his midriff and closes his eyes, letting go of a shaky breath as he lets a tear slip down his cheek. 

His thoughts are still racing, and he finds that his entire body is now shaking lightly. He hates this, despises it. Images of Uncle Vernon taking endless, painful lashes at him with a leather belt flash in front of his eyes and a shiver runs down Harry’s spine as he remembers his most recent punishment. Fifty whips with the belt to the face, fifty punches delivered by Dudley, and no food for two weeks. Another tear escapes from Harry’s eye. Before he’s fully aware of it, he is loudly sobbing into the armchair, his body heaving as he takes large gulps of air and lets out wails dripping in pain. He hates this. He hates that he is crying. He hates that he is panicking. He hates that he cannot stop  _ thinking.  _ He doesn’t know what to do and he feels utterly helpless.

He’s already been dealing with so much and then the incident with Malfoy had pushed him over the edge. That small nudge had been just enough to send Harry into a spiral. A hand tenderly touches Harry’s shaking shoulder, causing him to jump and release a surprised yelp. He turns his head to look up Ron, standing over him with his blue eyes full of pity, his lips slightly parted and his bright red hair in a mess. 

“Harry? What’s the matter?” Ron asks gingerly. Harry does not respond, rather wipes away his tears and sniffles, shifting himself in the armchair to fully face Ron. He allows his arms to release his knees and lets them fall to his sides. 

“Everything.” 

The word is weak and quiet, so quiet that Harry is actually surprised when he realizes that Ron was able to hear him at all.

“Want to talk about it? I’m all ears.”

“Why are you acting like Hermione?”

“Maybe I’ve been around too much lately. Now answer my question, would you?”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Has Malfoy been a git again?”

Harry nods, grateful that he doesn’t have to completely lie because when is Malfoy  **_not_ ** a git?

“I’ll beat him up if you want! I’ve been wanting to take a swing at him lately, actually for the entire time that his dad had been a right pain in the broomstick to my dad, but, you know.”

Harry wipes at his eyes again with his wrist, “It’s fine. You don’t need to punch him, I’m honestly probably being a bit dramatic.”

Ron removes his hand from Harry’s shoulder, shooting him a look as though to ask ‘are you sure?’

Harry sighs, for what feels like the millionth time of the day, and reassures Ron that he’ll be okay. Ron leaves the common room, and Harry is alone once again, feeling shaken up and jittery, but not as panicked as before. He carefully gets up from the chair, raising his arms over his head as he does so and stretching out the tense muscles within them.

He follows Ron’s exit pattern and leaves the room, making his way into the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, his bright green eyes scanning the room as he walks inside. 

“Sure you’re alright?” Is how Ron greets him, without looking up from the piece of parchment that he is eyeing intently.

“Yeah, I’m sure. What are you doing?”

“Homework,” Ron grumbles, his eyes still glued to the parchment. Harry realizes that a quill and ink are also sat on Ron’s comforter. Then his heart skips a beat.

“We had homework?”

This causes Ron to look up at Harry, an eyebrow raised.

“I’m usually the one to forget about our homework! Charms, twelve-inch long essay due by Friday.”

Harry groans, making his way over to his own four-poster and collapsing onto it sloppily. 

“I’ll do it tomorrow. Don’t tell Hermione or she’ll hex me into next week.”

Ron doesn’t respond. Harry begins to hear the sound of a quill scratching paper and he sits up on the bed, reflecting on his day as of yet. Then he decides that doing that is far too depressing an activity, and flops right back down again. 

  
  



	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WE. HAVE. SOME. DRAMA. AND. HARRY. IS. ONE. ANGRY. BOI. (RIGHTFULLY SO)

This week has been okay, Harry thinks. He sets down his quill and scans over his work. This was his first time journaling, and he finds that he enjoys it. He frowns when he realizes that he has mentioned Malfoy five times throughout the entry, then attempts to ignore this fact and grabs the piece of parchment that he has written on, sliding it under the bed along with the quill and ink he had used. He stands up, quickly grabbing his bag and heading out of the empty dormitory. He runs down several staircases, falling in with the moving crowd of students heading to their classes, and spots Ron and Hermione walking alongside one another down another set of stairs. He hurries over to them and falls into step with the pair, catching his breath. 

“Oh, hi Harry! I thought you were going to be late to class, where were you?” Hermione asks.

“Dormitory...didn’t realize what time it was.” His response is half a lie, he does not want to admit that he has been journaling. The Dursleys have always shunned, laughed at, and revoked his hobbies. He expects that kind of behavior from everyone, including Ron and Hermione. 

Ron nods, his hair falling sloppily into his eyes. Hermione purses her lips slightly but loosens her expression soon after it forms. The trio head down one more staircase before reaching the charms classroom and enter, taking their seats next to each other. Hermione’s workspace is far more organized than anyone else’s, which causes Harry to feel slightly self-conscious. A squeaky voice arises from behind a stack of books, causing every head in the room to turn toward the noise. Professor Flitwick jumps up on top of the stack of books, silently casting a charm to steady them so that he does not fall. The lesson begins and Harry focuses his mind on the words being said, though he finds himself harboring a bit of anxiety over the possibility of failing at the charm they would be expected to attempt by the end of class. By the time that class has ended Harry’s palms are glistening with sweat and his heart is beating quickly, there is a lump in his throat and a pink tint to his cheeks. It wasn’t even a noticeable mistake, that’s what Ron and Hermione keep telling him.

“We were supposed to summon a book from across the room, I accidentally summoned  _ Malfoy because I’m an idiot who pointed my wand the wrong way.” _

“Harry, the book was close to him, and you only managed to pull his tie toward you a bit, it’s not like he flew across the room to you!”

Harry runs a sweaty hand through his hair, releasing a frustrated growl. 

“You don’t understand, Hermione!”

Harry walks ahead of his friends slightly, attempting to walk away from them.

They catch up, and Harry doesn’t have a clue why they won’t leave him alone but he decides to put up with it. 

“Mate, sure, maybe she doesn’t understand how you feel, but it wasn’t a big deal! You’re the only who cares, I promise!”

Harry stops in his tracks, turning on his heel toward Ron and grabbing the shoulder of his robes. 

“I’m the only one who cares? What about Malfoy?”

“Since when do you care about Malfoy?”

Harry doesn’t know when he started caring about Malfoy, or Malfoy’s opinion on the incident, but he does. He does not want to have to explain at the moment, however, and would much rather have Ron accept that he is not going to just quit caring and calm down in the blink of an eye. 

Harry lets go of Ron’s robes, looking away from him and starting off in the same direction as he was going before. 

“Wizard’s chess later?” Ron offers (rather stupidly, Harry thinks).

Harry turns back to Ron, shooting him a fierce glare. Ron, like Malfoy, does not know when Harry developed this snark. He accepts these knew fangs as a part of his best friend, though he must admit that he is slightly hurt. It stings. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, starting off again, walking much faster than Ron this time. He has made the decision to walk to the Great Hall alone now, so he takes a turn and separates himself from Ron and Hermione, who stand in the hallway looking awestruck with their mouths hanging open. 

Harry doesn’t even think about his actions or the choices that he has just made, but rather walks into the Great Hall after navigating his way through several passageways and staircases and finds himself a seat at the Gryffindor table next to Neville and Seamus. The two don’t bat an eye when Harry sits alongside them, but they do make a double take when Hermione and Ron enter and avoid Harry, moving to sit with Ginny, Fred, and George. 

“Potter!”

Harry huffs, looking up from his plate to spot Malfoy across the room at the Slytherin table, looking utterly stupid as he sneers and smirks from across the hall. 

“Why were you tugging at my tie earlier?”

Malfoy’s cronies laugh at this statement. Harry’s blood boils. He can feel his own magic swirling around him, and feels as though he cannot control it.

“Well, is your tongue tied or something?”

More laughter erupts at the Slytherin table. Harry still finds the insult to be idiotic, though for some reason is still erupts a volcano of frustration within him. 

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Harry mutters to himself.

“What was that, Potter? If you’ve got something to say about me, I’d prefer you shout it so I can hear!”

Harry’s stomach clenches and he can feel his ears growing hot. He tries to withhold what he is about to say but finds that he is unable to. 

“PISS OF, MALFOY! THAT’S WHAT I SAID, OKAY? PISS OFF!”

More  _ sodding  _ laughter.

Suddenly sparks are flying, shooting across the room. Yellow sparks, hot and angry and full of uncontrolled magic.

Harry does not know what spell the sparks are fueled by, as he did not cast one, but rather it spilled over. He feels no remorse when the sparks jam directly into Malfoy’s chest, causing him to shriek and grimace as though he has been burned.

“Mr.Potter!”

A bony hand holds a firm grip on his shoulder. This is not good. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter that I whipped up in google docs around 2:30 in the morning, but I wanted to post something so I figured that I would pay the small price of being extremely tired tomorrow. Harry seems to cry a lot, but don't we all?  
> I'm trying to span events out the best that I can so the event that takes place during this chapter is probably going to last for a while, but it's all for the sake of character and relationship growth, people! Hehe, hope you enjoy :)

Harry is sitting in a hard wooden chair in Professor McGonagall’s office, her desk a barrier between the two of them.

“Mr.Potter. Please, explain to me why you think your behavior was appropriate?”

Her voice and cold and rough. Harry flinches a bit. He swallows past the lump in his throat and looks into the professors steely blue eyes, which stare back at him angrily. Harry thinks he can almost see steam coming from her ears. 

“It wasn’t,” He says quietly.

“I’m sorry?”

“It wasn’t,” He responds, louder this time.

“Then, Mr.Potter, why did you do it?” She asks, her voice higher than usual.

“He made me mad.”

“Tell me if this sounds right, Mr.Potter. Mr.Malfoy made you mad, so you lost control of your magic, after yelling across the room at him, and then proceeded to put him in the hospital wing.”

Harry’s heart drops. “He’s in the hospital wing?”

“Yes! Third-degree burns on his chest, Mr.Potter, which may leave him scarred for the rest of his life, thanks to your loss of control.”

“He’s in the hospital wing,” Harry whispers, mostly to himself. He stares down at his hands and attempts to not throw up on the carpet. He doesn’t know why the thought of Malfoy being in the wing with Madam Pomphrey sickens him so much, but it does. He knows that he should feel empathetic for him, and he knows that he should be sorry, but he feels more than just empathetic and sorry. He feels as though he should be the one in the hospital wing; he knows that this is his fault and he feels as though he is a horrible person for it. 

He stands up, the chair nearly falling as he does. Professor McGonagall’s eyes widen in shock as she stares at him.

“I have to go.”

“I’m not done with your punishment yet, Mr.Potter!”

“I don’t care, I’m very sorry, professor, but I have to go see him.”

Harry doesn’t wait for a response but runs out of the office with reckless abandon, trying to figure out how to get to the hospital wing from where he currently is located. 

He runs down several hallways and up and down a few staircases before he sees an open door that he recognizes as being the room he is searching for. 

He enters the room and spots Malfoy instantly. He is lying in the farthest bed down, several machines surround the bed that he is occupying. Harry feels a bit sicker now. 

He walks across the room to Malfoy, who he realizes is sleeping.

“I’m sorry.”

Malfoy’s eyelids flutter slightly, but he does not wake.

“I’m so sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t mean to.”

Harry bows his head, staring at the floor as a tear escapes his eye.

“I messed up. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” He rambles, beginning to cry softly.

He can hear Professor McGonagall enter the room, but he ignores her. He doesn’t care. He hurt Malfoy, and yes, he does hate Malfoy (or at least he’s supposed to) but he also doesn’t like hurting him. He doesn’t want this for him, and he sure doesn’t want to be the one who did it to him.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY AGH I ACTUALLY FEEL BAD FOR WRITING THIS CHAPTER WHY DID I HAVE TO DO THIS TO MY BABY FOR CHARACTER GROWTH AND TO MAKE SNAPE A LESS HORRIBLE HUMAN BEING BECAUSE I WANT TO FIX HIM JUST A LITTLE BIT AND WE NEED TO GET HARRY SOME MENTAL HELP AND THAT HAS TO START HERE THAT'S WHY AGH JUST READ IT I'M PROBABLY MAKING ZERO SENSE RIGHT NOW

“Mr.Potter, I would highly recommend leaving Mr.Malfoy alone. He needs his rest.”

Harry does not acknowledge the professor’s remark. He continues to mumble his apologies under his breath, tasting his own salty tears as they slip into his mouth.

“Mr.Potter, please, you can apologize when he is awake.”

Harry, once again, does not respond.

Professor McGonagall walks over to the floo, reaching into the bucket sitting on top of it and fetching a pinch of the green powder within. She throws it into the fireplace and gets down on her knees, putting her face in the fire. She can see into Snape’s office and spots him working on a potion at a wooden table in the corner. The room is quite dark and smells of smoke.

“Severus!”

The man starts, dropping the glass vial that he is holding. It shatters on the stone floor and he swears, flicking his wrist to vanish it as he walks over to the fireplace.

“Minnie, what a nice surprise. What do you need me for?”

McGonagall rolls her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I need you in the hospital wing, Potter’s being ridiculous and I don’t know how to get him to leave Malfoy alone.”

“You can’t just drag him out of there? I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“Severus, don’t be difficult. You’re a bit intimidating, I’m an old woman.”

“You may be of older age, but you’re still terrifying. Once again, I am busy.”

“Severus I will have the house-elves carry you here if you don’t stop being so stubborn.”

Snape runs a hand across his forehead, huffing. “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.”

McGonagall’s head disappears from the fire as she withdraws herself and stands up, wiping soot off her robes. She steps to the right as Snape emerges from the fireplace, glaring at McGonagall. “He’s over there,” She informs him, pointing toward Harry, who is still busy crying.

“Ridiculous. Just like his father, dramatic, self-centered, useless-”

“Don’t you dare speak another ill word of James or I will hex you into next week,” Minerva objects, rather loudly. Severus grimaces at the name but otherwise does not show his discomfort before starting off toward the end of the room, a sour look on his face.

“Mr.Potter. Calm down you hysterical boy, he’s fine.”

Harry sniffs, starting visibly. He looks up at the professor, his breathing unsteady. 

“I can’t.”

His voice is shaky and raspy. There is no way he could hide his tears. His cheeks are wet and his eyes are red, a few stray tears are still making their slow crawl down his chin.

“You’re coming with me.”

Snape grabs Harry by the arm despite his protests. The boy is clearly frightened, Severus can tell, though he does not care. He feels as though Potter deserves it, his father and him. 

“Please, stop. You’re hurting me!” Harry protests. He hasn’t had a panic attack, flashbacks, nightmares, anything of the sort for a few days now, but he can feel a panic attack building now.

The strong hand clenching his bicep reminds him of Uncle Vernon clutching him before tossing him into his cupboard. 

“Please, sir, please, stop! Stop! Stop, please!”

“Would you stop being so dramatic, boy? Shut up for once in your damn life and follow me!”

Harry is sobbing again. He is sweaty and shaking violently as the flashbacks begin. 

He is being screamed at as he is dragged across the kitchen floor, glass from a broken dish digging ruthlessly into his ankles and knees.

“UNCLE VERNON PLEASE STOP IT HURTS!”

Snape stops walking and lets go of Harry’s arm, causing him to fall on the stone floor. 

“What did you just call me?” The man utters almost silently, turning around slowly to face Harry, who is crumpled up on the floor rocking back and forth whimpering and crying.

“Please, no.”

Snape hasn’t felt anything other than anger and disgust in quite some time, but this evokes something from him that he is not familiar with. Empathy, he thinks. He has never liked children, but he has also never taken much of a liking to abusive family members. He would know how being abused feels, as he has experienced it himself.

“Pomphrey, get out here!” He calls, hoping he can be heard from the hallway. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY FOR POSTING THIS SO LATE I ACTUALLY THOUGHT I POSTED THIS CHAPTER LAST WEEK OOF

“What in the world is happening out here?”, shrieks Madame Pomfrey, staring at Harry with wide eyes.

“He’s having a panic attack or something. Has anyone given him a psychological evaluation before?”,Snape replies.

“No. Dumbledore never told me it was needed.”

“I swear to Merlin, Minerva is going to kill that man.”

Madame Pomfrey leans down, lowering herself onto one knee in front of Harry, who is still shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. 

“You go get Minnie, have her go talk to Albus, I’ll try to calm him down and then try to have him rest some. He’s going to get evaluated by me as soon as possible,” Pomfrey orders, sending Snape back into the hospital wing.

“Look at me, Harry.”

Harry does not open his eyes, continuing to cry loudly. It breaks Poppy’s heart, but she knows that she has to do her job, she can deal with her emotions later. 

“You’re okay, darling. I promise, open your eyes and look at me.”

Harry opens his eyes slightly, though he is still shaking and allowing a waterfall of tears to rush down his cheeks. 

“I promise, you’re just fine. Nobody is trying to hurt you, nobody is going to hurt you.”

“Yes, they are. They already have,” Harry says shakily.

“Who?”

“Them. My uncle, and my aunt. Dudley-” He is cut off by his own emotions overtaking his voice, choking him up and causing him to close his eyes as he sobs once more.

“Come here, darling. I’m going to carry you to a bed, is that okay?”

Harry nods slightly, rigid and terrified. Nobody can be trusted, not even this woman who does seem to be quite kind, but he must be submissive. If he doesn’t do as he is asked he knows he will be punished.

He feels warm arms scoop him up from the ground and carry him a short distance, through a door and then into a cot. The arms disappear and he is slightly startled to realize that he misses their warmth. They were almost...comforting. Not safe, or trusted, or unable to betray him, but comforting. He is wrapped up in a thick blanket, which he buries his face in. He wipes his tears on the blanket, but they continue. 

Somewhere along the lines, he has fallen asleep. He doesn’t know when, but he is now waking up, groggy with crusty eyes and tight skin on his cheeks where his tears have dried.

His mouth is dry and tastes strange. 

“Try to catch some sleep. I’ll do some diagnostics on you while you’re asleep, and when you wake up everything will be okay.”\

Harry allows his eyes to close, still feeling a bit uneasy.

"Can't you wait until I'm awake?", Harry mumbles through the blanket.

"Darling, wouldn't you rather it be over before you're up?"

Harry doesn't answer, as he is falling asleep quite quickly. His eyelashes fall against his cheeks peacefully. 

"Oh, poor child," Madam Pomfrey says, to herself, as she strokes Harry's untidy black hair. She feels a pang of sadness as she is reminded of James and all of the times he stayed in this very same cot. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna have some diagnoses and eek just oh no my poor baby Harry this gotta stop.

Poppy wipes her eyes dry, returning her wand to a pocket in her robes.   
"Sweet child, who could ever do such horrific things?", She says to herself.  
"Madam Pomfrey?"  
Poppy turns toward the voice, which belongs to the pale blond boy at the other end of the room. "Yes, Draco?"  
"Who are you talking to?"  
"Oh, nobody. Myself. There's another patient over here who's gone through quite a bit, but that does not concern you."  
Draco is curious now and throws off the thin blanket covering his lower half, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and hopping off, "Who?"  
Poppy frowns at her patient, "Draco, get back into your bed, it does not concern you. I'm going to go get your potions now."   
Draco sits back down in the cot, following the mediwitch's orders. Though, as soon as Poppy has left to retrieve his potions, he stands up once again and runs over to the only other occupied bed.   
Harry Potter.  
His blood boils, how is it possible that he could inflict enough pain upon Draco to put him in the hospital wing, then also end up in the hospital wing himself?  
"Mr.Malfoy! I have told you to sit down and stay put!"  
Poppy shoves the three vials into her pocket next to her wand, rushing over and seizing the young Malfoy by his arm.   
"Miss! Why is he in here? What did he do? He should be in detention or something, not lounging away in a cot!"  
"Mr.Malfoy! You haven't got a clue why he's in here, and it's a reason much different and far more severe than your's!"  
She leads him by the arm back to his respective bed, setting him down and taking the three vials of medical potions from her robes.   
"Now, take your potions for me and you shall be on your way."  
"You're letting me go?"  
"Yes, I am. You're healthy."  
"Potter doesn't get to lea-"  
"He is in here for a very severe reason, you get to leave because you are not. Is that understood?"  
"If you would tell me why-"  
"No! Mr.Malfoy, take your potions and go to class."  
Draco rolls his eyes, sighing as he grabs the three vials from the mediwitch and downs them one at a time. Once he has finished he stands up, pushing his way past the older woman and crossing the tile floor. He opens the large wooden door and heads out into the hallway, looking around before sprinting down to the Slytherin dorms. He knows that he is supposed to be heading to class, but he would much rather hide out in the dorms all day and relax, and that is just what he is going to do.  
He is more determined than ever to find out why in the world Potter is being kept in the hospital wing. How is it that the 'savior' and 'golden boy' could possibly be taken care of for something of great severity? He doesn't know but he will find out.


End file.
